


Let Me See You

by ScullyGolightly



Category: Big Little Lies (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyGolightly/pseuds/ScullyGolightly
Summary: A little drabble inspired by a tweet by @buckupcamper and @TrustOnlyOne_ that I turned into a prompt for myself.





	Let Me See You

**Author's Note:**

> Some mentions to self-harm and physical abuse

“Hey there, stranger,” said the voice of her friend from another corner of the world, every other syllable sticking sweetly as if dipped in honey.

 

Stella smiled in response, and leaned in a little towards the camera on her computer.

 

“It’s not too early for you, is it?”

 

“There’s never a wrong time for you to call me, Celeste,” Stella said. She needed her to know that, even though she had told her countless times before. To be honest, Stella’s heartbeat sped up every time Celeste called her. What would she see? What would she hear in her voice?

 

“Where are you?”

 

“I’m in Belfast in the middle of a case. A serial killer who does unspeakable horrors to women.” There it was, the quick flick of downcast eyes that made it through the stilted, long distance connection of the video feed. “Well, not unspeakable,” Stella continued. “We speak about it a lot. That’s how we will catch him.”

 

Silence—avoidance from the woman on her screen.

 

After a long, quiet moment under Stella’s scrutiny, Celeste sighed. It was a soft sigh—not heavy—and it ended with the hint of a shy smile. She expected this from Stella, but it was never why she called. She could tell her that she was looking at apartments, that she might finally have the courage to leave Perry, but she didn’t. What if she told Stella and didn’t follow through. She didn’t think she could handle Stella’s disappointment.

 

“I worry about you,” Stella said, watching as Celeste internally debated with herself.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Celeste huffed, laughing it off drily. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t want you to worry when you think of me.”

 

How could Stella not? She knew what was going on even though Celeste had never said it definitively. She had never confided in her, but she didn’t hide certain looks or pointed comments from Stella like she did with others. There was still nothing Stella could do. It wasn’t just the distance; she couldn’t force Celeste to say it out loud, to fight her way out. All she could do was be there and be strong, hopefully giving her the support she needed to get to that point herself.

 

Before she began to self-harm, Stella had used rough sex as a way to anesthetize her anger and the pain of losing her father. She did it until her loss of control scared her rather than excited her. Cutting had been a way to regain control, but still channel her malevolence at the hand she was dealt. This led to a need to control every aspect of her life, most importantly her sexual encounters. Over time, she saw this pattern in herself and knew it stemmed from the relationship with her father and his death. Daddy issues. She bristled at the thought of being reduced to an overused (and boorish) psychological term. Stella eventually stopped harming herself, but was never free of the feelings that had been the catalyst.

 

Celeste was going through something entirely different, but the impetus behind her actions was not unlike Stella’s. Celeste knew of Stella’s history, and maybe that’s why she didn’t take such pains to hide from her. Stella could appreciate Celeste’s bravery, and saw it as such—not as a weakness. Stella didn’t fault her on how she lived her life. Women have to make choices everyday, and sometimes they make decisions that can harm themselves, but usually for very selfless reasons. It was difficult for Stella to see her friend suffer, but she understood and admired her grace through it all.

 

“Do you remember our trip to Nice?” Celeste asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Think of that when you think of me.”

 

“Can you give me a visual reminder? My memory is a bit hazy,” said Stella unconvincingly, smiling.

 

This was why she had called. It was unspoken admissions that were received without judgment followed by a much needed release—a safer, more appropriate release than the kind she got from her husband. Calls to Stella never fixed her current situation, but they were therapeutic, nonetheless.

 

Celeste demurely nudged the thin strap of her negligee off her shoulder before adjusting the angle of her laptop. She sat back on her heels and ran her hands slowly up her stomach, lifting the satin top to reveal the underside of her breasts. She wouldn’t be taking it off, an unsightly bruise splotching the fair skin of her back.

 

Stella felt warmth spread through her chest as she watched Celeste brush her delicate fingers over her pale mounds. The lightness of Celeste’s touch on her own body felt like pleasurable teasing to Stella who could only imagine and recall from memory what it felt like. She remembered the feeling of Celeste’s nipples between her own fingertips and under her tongue. The recollection of it was always the first to invade her mind, and never failed to send a sharp surge of desire to her core.

 

Celeste had laid back on her bed and continued to stroke her breasts. Her skin felt aflame with sensitivity even as it pilled with gooseflesh. Stella watching her always worked her up rather quickly. Sometimes just dialing Stella’s number would cause her body to react—a tingle in her belly, a throbbing at her center. Stella’s eyes had an effect on her like no other. She didn’t even need to see her to know that those electric orbs were honed in on her; she felt them pierce her, rake up and down her body. Stella was touching her, caressing her, soothing her; across thousands of miles, through pixels and bandwidth, and past the strains of her traumas. The dull ache that regularly permeated her soul dissipated, and she welcomed the reprieve, however brief it may be.

 

She pulled down the lace-trimmed edge of her top to expose one breast before moving her hands down to skim over the matching shorts. The slate blue silk and cream lace complemented by her ginger hair was a palette worthy of an Impressionist masterpiece—soft pastels and subtle tones. Stella dropped a pretty penny on her undergarment wardrobe, but Celeste always had her beat with delicate lace and rich silks.

 

Stella moved the tray that had her breakfast and coffee to the side. She was still hungry, but not for food. With her eyes back on the screen, she tugged down her pajama bottoms, which were wrinkled from sleep, as she watched Celeste slip her hand inside the cool, shiny fabric. It rippled like ocean waves as her fingers played underneath. Stella reclined back on one elbow and fingered her entrance.

 

Celeste pushed two fingers inside, and glanced at her computer, hoping to see that Stella was joining her. She gasped when she saw she had and that she was afforded a full view of her cunt. The sensations created by the movements of her hands on herself combined with the image of Stella’s wet, swollen sex brought her impending orgasm closer—her arousal almost snapping into climax like a camera lens coming into sharp focus.

 

“Stella,” she moaned, and watched as Stella dipped a finger in and drew it out, lazily. The fact that she was teetering on the edge and Stella was touching herself so leisurely, just roused her more. Celeste sighed her name again with throaty urgency.

 

Stella stopped her teasing and began fucking herself, her hips solidly meeting the motions of her hand, pass for pass. Her breathing became ragged as she approached the same stimulated state as her distant partner. Celeste got up onto her knees, grinding her pelvis down into her hands. She mirrored Stella’s movements when she saw her fingers slip out and flutter over her clit. Celeste pressed circles into her own thrumming bundle of nerves, and she hissed, “Yesssss.”

 

Stella’s head fell back as she became undone. She could faintly hear Celeste whimpering through the cacophony of her own rasping breaths and the blood pounding in her ears. Rolling her hips gently and slowly, Stella eased herself down from her climax and laid back, looking up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and pictured Celeste hovering over her, cheeks rosy and glowing from their lovemaking. She opened them when she heard Celeste’s sated, sleepy hum drift out of the speakers.

 

Celeste had rolled over onto her stomach and rested her chin on her arm. She watched as Stella’s chest rose and fell; she smiled one of her rare smiles that were void of sadness. Not many things could bring her out of the depths.

 

The smile was still there when Stella sat up and brought her computer to her lap. She searched Celeste’s eyes, and saw that some of the darkness from earlier had brightened. Celeste brushed her fingertips down the screen as if she was stroking Stella’s cheek. “It’s good to see you, Stella.”

 

“Good to see you, too.”   


End file.
